It seemed the walls had been painted recently, I couldn't remember it being the powder blue it was now, which complimented the colors of older style tile work. The white ceiling had definitely been recently painted. It also seemed the door and casing on the very narrow linen closet had been too. I didn't recall it being off-white, or semi-gloss before. There were a handful of pictures hung on the walls, not large, mostly watercolors or photos of flowers and landscapes. For some reason, I wondered if she had painted the inside of the linen closet door.
I closed the hall door behind me, and pushed the lock button, noting that door back had been painted too. I set my brush and toothpaste on the vanity top. The bottles and jars on it were all neatly arranged, no hairdryer or curling iron with the cords all tangled up like it used to be in the master bath when Barb was here.
I stepped to the linen closet door and opened it. I saw older towels, toilet paper rolls, and a few older looking bottles of shampoo and bars of soap on the shelves. The jamb was painted as well as the inside face of the door. My gut knotted tighter when I saw the 4 x 6 inch picture frame hanging on the door. A photo was under the glass.
It was a pic of Barb sitting on a blanket at a beach. She looked to be eighteen or so. She was wearing a red bikini. The wind had blown a few strands of her hair across her forehead. She was sitting pretzel legged, holding a toddler standing on her lap, a dark brunette little girl who was wearing those white plastic frame kid's sun glasses and a little, white, floppy sun hat. Both of Barb's slender arms were wrapped around the little girl, her cheek was pressing against the side of Lana's head. A slender, petite, fortyish woman in a blue tank suit, also a dark brunette and also wearing shades, sitting with her legs folded to the side, was leaning into Barb holding herself up on an outstretched arm which was hidden behind Barb. She had her cheek pressed to the side of Barb's head. All three females were grinning, maybe laughing. Lana looked so cute and pretty. So did Barb. The older woman was attractive too.
I knew immediately the woman in the tank suit had to be Barb's mother, Lana's grandmother. I felt my guilt swell within me. At the right edge of the photo, I noticed part of a dark blue, white topped, plastic cooler poking into the scene. Sitting on the lid was a bottle of a wine cooler. Barb had told me once, she used to love those.
The photo had to have been taken just about the time Barb said her parents had thrown her out of the house and completely disowned her and Lana. I stared at the woman's face. Barb's story and that face didn't seem to match. I knew that really didn't mean anything. My parents' home movies proved that. You can't really tell anything about people, especially if it's just from a photo. But... that woman's smile was definitely genuine, so was her caressing hand on Lana's foot. I knew in my gut that woman could never disown her granddaughter, and probably not her daughter either.
I suddenly felt even worse, like I was snooping in Lana's personal things, defiling her privacy. I guess I was. I realized I hadn't pissed yet. I closed the narrow door, then stepped to the toilet and raised the seat and lid. Jeezuz... I really needed to piss. It was making a lot of noise in the water. I turned around and looked at the tub. It was a hell of a lot cleaner than mine. I wondered if I should just hold off and use my bathroom later. Hell, I was the one paying the fucking rent! I'd shower here.
I turned towards to the toilet again.
Shit
. I had peed on the rim of the goddamn bowl. I shook my dick to get the last few drops out, then yanked some toilet paper off the roll and wiped up my lousy aim. I tossed it in the bowl, flushed, then lowered the seat and lid.
I turned on the shower. I stepped to the wire rack and reached for one of the fluffy big towels, then pulled my hand back. I muttered, "Fucking chicks." I returned to the linen closet and grabbed an older towel. I looked at the photo again for a few seconds. I wished Barb's mom didn't have the shades on. I wanted to see her eyes. I closed the door, set the towel within reach on the toilet cover. I brushed my teeth and tongue thoroughly. I finally stepped into the tub and drew the shower curtain closed. I looked around for the bar of soap. There were only bottles on the plastic holder rack hanging from the shower nozzle.
"Fuckin' chicks," I muttered again. I looked at the bottles. Two of shampoos, one conditioner, finally one that read "body wash." I poured some of that in my palm, then realized I should have shampooed first. No, actually I should have taken vitamin pills, two ibuprofen, and drank a couple glasses of water first. Her surprising interior decorating work had gotten me all fouled up, so did that damn photo.
I used the dollop of body wash on my groin first, lathered up my pubic hair. My dick was sore, maybe friction burned. I then grabbed some green bottle marked shampoo. As soon as I poured some, I thought of Lana. It was that herbal scent of her hair. Great. I was going to smell like a chick all day! I'd just take another shower with my bar of Dial and my non-scented shampoo as soon as Lana got up and out of my bedroom. My gut clenched tighter again. I'd have to figure out what the hell to say and do before then.
I finished the shower and reached for the towel. I dried off in the tub so I didn't get the throw rug wet. Even that thing looked clean. I realized I hadn't grabbed any clothes on my way out of the bedroom. "
Fuck
." I toweled my feet last, then stepped out of the tub. I wrapped the damp towel around my waist and noticed I had forgotten to turn on the exhaust fan. It felt humid and the mirror was covered with condensation. I flipped the switch on, then got pissed at myself for worrying about shit like that. I left the door open to get the moisture out of the room as I headed down the hall. The fan wasn't too loud, I didn't think it could be heard in the master bedroom.
In the kitchen I put cubes in a tall glass and filled it at the tap. I drank it all then refilled it. I got two big multi-vitamins and two ibuprofen and drank more water to get them down. I opened the fridge, grabbed the carton of orange juice and shook it. Dammit. There was only about a glass worth's in it. I raised it to my mouth, then just before it touched my lips, I swore under my breath again and put it back in the refrigerator. I needed a smoke. I got a fresh pack of cigs from the cabinet, looked around for matches because my lighter was probably in my jeans. I couldn't find any. I opened the pack and lit one on the stove burner, then sat at the kitchen table.
I took a drag. I had to figure out what to do about last night, and what to say to Lana today. All I could think about though, was how goddamn clean her bathroom was and that hidden picture in the linen closet. Why couldn't she clean any other part of the house like that? That fucking giftwrap paper from Barb's graduation gift to her was still on the living room floor. It had been what? Two weeks since she ripped that off the box?
Had Barb lied to me about her parents? I was now absolutely sure she hadn't told me the entire story. I blinked. Was it she who had disowned them? What would make her do that? What would make her parents disown her? Lana was at least two if not three in that photo. That woman in the pic didn't look like she was about to toss her kid and grandkid out on the street. Who was taking the photo? Was it Barb's high school boyfriend, the guy who knocked her up? She never talked to me at all about him, like the guy who fathered Lana was dead. Was it some different boyfriend, or was it Grampa behind the lens? Does Lana even know who her father is? Does she even remember her grandparents? Why don't I know any of this shit?
I could recall a few things from when I was three years old, maybe even younger, stupid seemingly mundane moments. I didn't know enough about kids to be able to judge her age in that pic. She was standing, not just being held up by Barb's arms, at least it looked like that. And her face was starting to look like her, so she couldn't be extremely young. She had to be two or three, and... Barb might have been older than eighteen. She looks younger than her age too, like Lana does now. Well, before she went to prison at least.
My gut tightened again with the image of Barb crying that day in the prison visiting room. Me being cruel to her, and Lana being a lying little bitch. How the hell did the beautiful young woman and that cute baby in the photo end up to be the people who were at the prison that day? Pictures may speak a thousand words but they don't tell the entire story, nor the truth.
The story. The story Barb told me about her parents disowning her. Truth or bullshit? What does Lana know about it? Did Barb tell her the same story she told me? I blinked. Why was I thinking about that? I crushed the cigarette out in the half full plastic ashtray. I should have emptied it before I lit the cig.
Damn. I had truly fucked up royally last night. It would kill Barb if she found out. How will I be able to face her tomorrow? Jeezuz. Will she be able to tell just by looking at me? Why can't I lie better than I do? How could I have been so goddamn stupid? I was fucking horny and drunk, that's how. That's how I've fucked up over and over again since I was in high school, drunk and horny since I was fifteen. Or, maybe Dad's been right all these years -
What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have your brains up your goddamn ass?!
Yeah, maybe fuckhead Dad was right.
I brought myself back to the present. I decided to clean up the evidence of last night. Why have any reminders of it? I started on the kitchen counter. There was more bourbon in the Comfort bottle than I thought there'd be. I put that in the cabinet. There was a can of tea next to the sink. I shook it. It was nearly empty. Lana drank that crap sometimes. I spilled the remnants in the sink and from the mud room door I tossed the can in the recyclable box in the garage. I emptied the kitchen ashtray making sure nothing was still smoldering, then wiped down the sticky countertops and the table; every moment trying to think of what to say to Lana and how to handle the situation. I kept drawing a blank.
There was a putrid odor coming from the sink full of dirty dishes. I felt angry for a moment, knowing at least half were dishes and glasses Lana had used. As I grabbed the dish sponge and put some liquid soap on it, I glanced at the digital clock on the stove. 7:18AM. I wondered how long Lana would sleep. I started on the dishes. I thought about how spic 'n' span her bathroom was, and my jaw tightened briefly.
It took me nearly twenty minutes to do the dishes, a good part of that was getting the big and small skillets cleaned of burnt shit stuck on the 'no stick' surfaces. I did a quickie scrubbing of the sink after that, then realized I hadn't checked the living room for glasses. I went in there and saw the end table shoved away from the side of the couch. A vision of the previous night flooded my mind. I had forgotten about laying Lana over the armrest, tonguing her cunt and asshole, then really pounding my cock into her. I vaguely recalled she had an orgasm there. Maybe I was wrong about that.
I pulled the end table back to its proper place, then tossed the throw pillows to each end of the couch. There were four glasses and two dishes around the room. Once more my jaw tightened when I saw the giftwrap paper on the floor. I took the dishes to the sink, just put them in to wash later. I opened the fridge and was about to drink the OJ, but again thought I should leave it for Lana. I cursed under my breath, closed the door and grabbed the dish sponge and soap once more and washed what I had brought in from the living room. I just could not get my thoughts organized.
